The Colour of Death and Power
by Mrs Bella Riddle
Summary: Even on her wedding day, black was always Bella's colour. Even the Dark Lord agreed. Bella/Voldemort. For the True Colours Competition.


Challenge for the True Colours Competition at HPFC. My colour was black and there was only one way I could interpret it.

* * *

"Pretty, but I must say white is not your colour, Bella."

Standing in the shadows with his usual black robes fluttering against his long limbs in the summer breeze, a cold smirk slithered onto his face as the woman in front of him leaped in shock at the sudden sound of his high cold voice. Turning around rapidly, Bellatrix faced him with wide eyes dressed, just like his words suggested, in a crisp white wedding dress.

"My Lord?" she murmured as she took a hesitant step away from the railing and closer to where he stood at the steps that led to the gardens below. "I did not know you were here. Not that it is a problem, my Lord. It is an honour a great honour. Rodolphus would-"

"I am not here to talk to Rodolphus," he interrupted as he took only a few steps towards her to reach her side. Idly, as if it was not deliberate, he brushed his fingers through her black locks to the white veil in her hair and down to the white skinny straps of her dress. "As I said, white is not your colour, black is."

Just as he knew she would, Bellatrix smiled a little and leaned into his caresses. "I would prefer black," she murmured as her eyes fluttered closed. "I don't know why I allowed my mother to talk me into wearing it."

He chuckled coldly as he bent his mouth to her ear while his eyes flicked to the closed door covered in curtains to ensure they would not be interrupted. "I was unaware you ever listened to your mother." Running his hand down the side of her tight dress it always amused him to see how much power he had over her. "Perhaps I should just charm it black."

"Yes, my Lord," she answered immediately in a breathy voice. She would have agreed with him no matter what he said. "Anything you desire."

Voldemort's originally intention for visiting had not been anything significant. He had intended to venture inside on the guise of providing his approval to the match, when he really intended to check if Bellatrix had actually gone through with the marriage.

The match had not been his entire work. He always had a preference for Bellatrix to marry rather than remain single. She had been a consistent presence in his bed for several years, but it had never been anything more than her serving him in another way. However, he was very aware that she was fonder of him than she should be. He did not need a woman chasing after him whose affections were more than what was appropriate. He wanted her married so she could control her foolish fantasies. He had only needed to make one inquiry about why she was not married and the next day she had Rodolphus' ring on her finger.

However, her marital status meant nothing more to him. She may have been married, yet it did not affect his desire to get what he wanted. Even he was persuaded by an attractive woman in a tight fitting dress who panted and moaned as he only innocently brushed his fingers against her.

"Then follow me," he said emotionlessly as, without a glance at her, he set off down the steps to the shadowy garden. It was all he needed just as he knew it would be as she quickly rushed to his side her heels clicking noisily as she moved to on the stone.

The night was crisp and clear. The sky was filled with stars as he flicked his eyes to the quiet and shadowy ground with the river trickly over stones to his right and a small area of woods in front of him. There was no one around so it was nice and secluded.

They would not be interrupted.

"Master what are we-" Bella started to ask as they entered the woods, before he rammed her back against the tree causing her to go silent.

"Patience, my dear," he hissed into her ear as his hands closed around her waist. "We may need to be a little quieter."

"Yes, m-" He cut her off again as his other hand circled the back of her black locks and pulled down forcefully.

"Are you so quick to abuse my orders?" he snarled into her ear. "Lose your Black name and black robes and now you lose your way." Settling his lips against her neck he continued, "Maybe I should strip that white gown away from you too."

"I'm yours, my Lord. Only yours. Do whatever you will," she murmured into his ear as she leaned into his caresses. "You made me, my Lord. I may have entered your home so long ago with the name of Black, but it only mattered when you burned your black mark into my arm, gave me the black robes of the fold and recreated me, Master."

His eyes burned red at her words as his hands slinked to her back to find the lacings of her dress. Long fingers brushed against strings, zippers and buttons and, quickly abandoning the attempt he vanished the gown without a word. Her pale skin was almost as luminous as her dress. The only trace of anything other than white was her black lacy underwear.

"Still black underneath it all." Unclipping her lace bra, his caresses continued over her upper body that was not free from any material. She was moaning loudly and, with the noise, it was easy to be lax about the need for silence. "Do you know why you are really black?"

The only response he received was a moan. Tightening his grip around her breast, he twisted her nipple painfully causing her to gasp either in pain or pleasure. "Answer me."

"Master I-" A loud gasp escaped her throat as his fingers slipped under the lacy band of her underwear. "Oh my Lord. I- I don't know."

Grabbing her by her hair with his other hand, he slammed his lips into hers in a symbol of his dominance before he pulled away. "My dear Bella it is because of what black represents." Yanking down her underwear he unbuckled his belt and freed himself. "Death. You are my little bringer of death."

Without pause he thrust hard into her.

* * *

"You're wrong, Master," Bella said softly without caution as she slid her previously discarded pearly white dress up over her hips.

In the middle of buckling his belt, Voldemort looked over at her sharply. "What did you say?" he snapped automatically like a whip at the merest mention of anyone daring to suggest he was wrong. Stepping towards her, his hands tightened over her throat as he once again pinned her up against the tree. "You forget your place."

"No. I haven't," she gasped breathless, but still smiling despite the position she was in. He was even more incensed and tightened his grip on her, his nails digging into her neck. "You're wrong. Black does not represent me. It represents you."

He paused, his eyes gleaming red before he chuckled darkly and released his grip on her neck, but he did not step back from where he pinned her against the tree. "Tell me why." The previous anger had left his voice and was replaced by amusement.

Still half dressed, but confident, Bellatrix chanced placing a hand on his chest. Feeling merciful, this time he did not punish her. "Because my master is the one who controls death not his mere servant. It represents mystery and intrigue and no one could ever dare to know my Master. More than that, black represents power."

The presumed gleam in his eyes was present in her eyes as he pressed his lips to hers the very thought of his power igniting the fire in him again. He was even prepared to admit that she was correct and he was wrong.


End file.
